


Hat Envy

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Hats, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:32:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro doesn't like fedoras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hat Envy

You didn't normally like fedoras. They reminded you of mens' rights activists and the douchebags who ruined _My Little Pony_ for men your age. They screamed of dudes who whined of being friendzoned and rape apologists. It was the symbol of the Nice Guy.

It wasn't the hat's fault, you knew; still, you couldn't help but look down on that particular accessory for the sort of people it attracted.

(Not that you were one to judge the acccessories others chose to wear given your own choice of attire, but your choices were based on irony, and irony was cool. Duh.)

You just plain didn't like fedoras.

Then you met little Johnny Egbert, Dave's bestest bud in the entire world. The kid was a total doofus, but in an endearing way.

One endearing trait of his was the crush he'd seemed to form on you.

He'd blush when you walked through the house with nothing but a towel on, giggled a little too asthmatically when you poked fun at his shiny new braces, was a little too intent on forcing you to watch his terrible McConaugh-who's-it movies with him and Dave.

But it was sort of cute.

You were surprised when he asked about your choice of hat -- "why not a fedora?" Had been his inquiry.

"Only assholes wear fedoras," you'd replied.

He had frowned. "My dad wears a fedora."

"Your dad has poor taste then, kid."

He'd given you the cold shoulder after that.

Ah, well. The crush had been cute while it lasted.

He was always going on about his dad after that, how cool his dad was, how smart his dad was, how god damn dapper his god damn dad was.

He wasn't cute anymore.

In fact, he was leaning on the side of aggravating.

He kept insisting that you meet his dad to prove his point, because you _had_ to know _just how great_ his dad was. You refused, time and time again. Not that you adamantly had anything against meeting him, you just didn't care.

Until the first time little Johnny Egbert slept over.

It was about five months after you had first met John. One day, he came home with Dave after school, an older man you'd never met before following close behind them.

"I hope you don't mind me intruding, Mr. Strider," he'd bellowed out. Every word he spoke came out in a bellow. At first, you weren't sure if it was intentional or not, but the man's demeanor and expression led you to believe that he was unaware of just how loud he was. Or he at least didn't mean it in an aggressive manner. Either way, this was definitely his normal speaking voice. "I felt it necessary to meet the man who would be guarding over my son for the night."

He ended his statement with an outstretched hand, smiling brightly at you.

There was nary a trace of irony in his casual business attire. The fedora did, in fact, suit him. It matched the pipe that stuck out of his left breast pocket. The hair beneath his hat was freshly trimmed and graying at the edges. He looked clean-shaven, extremely clean-shaven, even smelled of a delightful aftershave. His tie and dress shirt were crisp and bright. The man knew how to take care of his clothing, that was for damn sure.

For the first time in a long while, you found yourself speechless.

Dapper had been an understatement. This man was _hot_.

You resisted the urge to fan yourself off at the mere sight of him as his hand stayed there, motionless in thin air as you gaped at him. Seconds passed and you finally realized that it might seem odd, you standing there staring.

"It is Strider, isn't it?" His eyebrows dropped a fraction of an inch and you panicked. You were being weird. You were being weird and he was noticing.

"Yeah --" your voice cracked and you tried to cover it with a cough. "Yeah," you tried again, "Strider's the name. But you can call me Bro." You clapped your hand against his and his grin grew wider.

"Ah, Bro! Is that short for something?" He shook your hand nigh violently and your fingertips tingled.

He released your hand and you opened your mouth to speak. "Not reall --"

"Let me take a guess! Bro...hmm...is it Broderick? Broheim? It couldn't be Broseph, could it?"

You managed to gain back enough of your senses to attempt to flirt with the man in front of you. "You can call me anything you want, Mr. Egbert." You emphasized with a wink, forgetting the opaqueness of your shades until it was too late. There was no way he had seen the wink, was there? Should you wink again, but pull your shades up this time? No, that would be even weirder.

There was a cough and you were pulled out of your reverie to look at your lil' bro beside you. He was smirking and you could see the height of one eyebrow behind his shades.

You mentally willed him to _shut the hell up_.

"I hope you don't mind the intrusion," Mr. Egbert said, "I feel as though I've barely seen my own son as it is these past few months, but you must be sick of the sight of him by now."

You shook your head. "Naw, we've enjoyed the company. Isn't that right, Davey?" His dodge was too late when you reached out to ruffle his hair and he grimaced at the harsh contact. That'd teach him to give you non-verbal lip while you were entertaining. "Besides," you turned back to Dadbert and gave him your best grin, "even if he was getting slightly annoying, it's worth it now to have such a charming gentleman in my home."

Oh, he liked that.

His chest puffed out and his already illuminating smile grew brighter and he grew at least three inches taller. "Why, thank you, Mr. Strider."

You winked again.

You mentally facepalmed again.

"Dad," John whined, tugging on his father's sleeve. "Shouldn't you go back home now?"

Dadbert's attention turned to John. "Can't wait to get rid of me, can you?" He turned back to you. "They always insist on being so independent, don't they?"

You shrugged.

"Ah, well, I probably should be getting home now anyway."

John sighed with relief.

"Do you really have to go so soon? We could always send the kids to Dave's room and I could pour you a drink..."

"As much as I'd enjoy that, I'll have to decline." He furrowed his brow in a troubled expression. "I'm afraid I may have left my oven on." He smiled again before sticking his hand out towards you. "But it was a pleasure meeting you and if young David here is anything to go by, I trust your parenting abilities are adequate enough to watch over John for the weekend."

You took his hand and made sure to tilt your shades down before winking this time. "That's not my only adequate ability."

What fuck what does that even mean.

This man was too hot for coherence.

He gripped your hand firmly and his grin turned sly. "I'd like just to see how adequate those abilities are sometime." He winked, clear as day this man just winked at you.

He was gome before you could reply. John stared up at you expectantly as Dave waited for the two of you on the couch.

"Well?" John said. "It looks good on him, right?"

You ignored him, turning away and walking to your bedroom.

You needed peace and quiet.

You had a seduction to plan.


End file.
